The Hunger Within
by Books and Other Drugs
Summary: I am memories of a dead little brother. I am the partner of Dastrey Maricule in the Hunger Games. I am scared. I am determined. I am broken. I am Nicolai Lifee, and i will win.
1. If I Die Young

**A **_N_o**t**_e_f**r**_o_m** T**_h_e** A**_u_t**h**_o_r**…..**

_Hey everybody! It's Katie(: I read the Hunger Games and this character kept on coming into my head. Meet Nicolai. I'm pretty sure you're going to like her story. Enjoy and review pretty please!(:_

Adults and children alike wander around the cobblestone square aimlessly (The stone coming from District 2) as they wait. Wait for The Reaping. Wait for the two tributes to be chosen. Wait for two of us to be sentenced to death. They call this the Hunger Games. The government tells us it's to show us the horrible effects of war. We all know it's just a way for them to control us.

Nervously, I smooth my hands over my skirt. It's a floaty, gauzy, champagne colored wisp of a dress that my mother made me wear. Light as air, Shiny as a lake on a warm summer night. It's been worn by every woman in my family on her 14th Reaping for nine generations. Supposedly, it's good luck. No one girl has ever been Reaped from my family before. The boys have not been so lucky

My uncle, my great-grandfather, and my little brother have all been chosen.

My uncle, Leif, Survived on cleverness and skill. He stayed hidden in bushes and trees until there was only one other tribute left. Silently, Mercifully, My uncle shot an arrow through the girl's heart. She, a pure wall of muscle that had dominated the competition, died instantly.

My great-grandfather, Percivil, was a different story. He was 18 when he was Reaped. He had already started his family, sure that he wouldn't be chosen. Great-grandfather Percivil was the 3rd tribute to be taken out of the game. The male tribute from District 11 gutted him. It took my great-grandfather 3 days to die.

And my beautiful little brother, a bo-

"Nicolai! Pay attention!" My mother grasps my hand firmly, staring up at the silver platform in the middle of the square.

Raised about 7 feet above the ground, it towers over all of us. The platform is draped in a black curtain, bouquets of red roses laid gently in the corner, a rather depressing scene. In a way, I suppose, this is many children's funerals. A way to honor the future dead.

"_If I die young,_

_Bury me in satin._

_Lay me down in a bed_

_Of roses_

_Sink me in the river_

_At dawn_

_Send me away with_

_The words of a _

_Love song"_

My heart aches at the familiar echo of words in my head. I wrote that song last year, the day that I saw my brother, Wren, die. The day I saw a freakishly beautiful boy with my same brown curls be stabbed in the heart. The day a part of me disappeared. I wrote that song as I watched his body be lifted away. 2 days later he arrived home and I held I quiet ceremony. My father wrapped my perfect little brother in satin and sent him into the lake, his favorite place to be, while softly singing my song.

"_If I die young,_

_Bury me in satin._

_Lay me down in a bed_

_Of roses_

_Sink me in the river_

_At dawn_

_Send me away with_

_The words of a _

_Love song"_

Wren was brilliant. Smartest kid in school. He had an eidetic memory and remembered every fact and figure. He was quick and strong and beautiful to an unreal degree. Perfect sapphire eyes, brown curls and a ski slope nose.

In a way, I should've expected this. Wren was too good to be true. I didn't deserve him. But for 12 years, 5 months, and 6 days Wren Lifee was here. Here and gone. Moved on to a better place more deserving of him. Not being worthy of him and not missing him are two very different things.

"_If I die young,_

_Bury me in satin._

_Lay me down in a bed_

_Of roses_

_Sink me in the river_

_At dawn_

_Send me away with_

_The words of a _

_Love song"_

"And our female Tribute from District 6 is….." My haze is broken by the loud, booming voice of the announcer. His turquoise suit is sprinkled with glitter and his eyes are hooded in lavender dust. He seems almost unreal as he digs into the jeweled ball that holds our names, our futures, our forevers, tommorows, and todays.

"Nicolai Lifee!"


	2. The Trouble With Dastrey Maricule

Sadly I don't own the Hunger Games. Oh and P.S. In the last chapter I used some song lyrics from the song "If I Die Young" By The Band Perry. I also don't own that song or the lyrics or the band(:

**-**_K_a**t**_h_e**r**_i_n**e **_E_l**i**_z_a**b**_e_t**h**

There's a moment of silence as people try to remember me. "_Nicolai Lifee…_" They all mull me over, rolling me around in their heads. I bet everyone's thinking of anytime I've ever talked to them, waved at them, or even looked at them. And then they remember Wren.

This year, I will not be the smart girl. The pretty girl. The strong girl. The quick girl. This year I am the dead boy's sister. The District thinks of me as troubled, as too burdened already to face the challenges that the Hunger Games will bring.

I can see on their faces the looks of pity. Thousands of sad eyes peer at me as I take a few deep breaths the calm myself. I will never let them get to me. The pressure will not crush me. Because when I look at my mother next to me, her eyes are already dead. Those normally lively blue orbs-The same as Wren's- fall flat once more.

She doesn't think I can win.

There isn't a part of my body that's actually controlled by me. It's like someone else has taken over and given me strength. A guiding hand, a reason to move. My vision goes hazy, but I am aware that my legs are in motion. People's faces blur and stretch, contorted into nightmare like expressions. Fear begins to put down its insidious roots inside of me but my body presses on.

Someone reaches out to touch my hand gently. A chill runs up my arm, icy tendons of something I can't even name that spread through my veins. Somehow, my eyes manage to look down at the giver of that touch. A withered woman with too many creases on her face to count stares up at me and nods. I don't know her. In fact I wasn't even aware that she existed until now. But for some reason….she cares about me. That small, simple gesture of kindness snaps me back into this moment.

My shaky hands climb up the metal ladder that leads to the stage. The simple climbing takes at least 3 minutes to accomplish. Weak legs wobble me towards the announcer, who gives me a reassuring smile. He isn't the same person who called out Wren's name last year. In fact, I believe it was a woman. Yes, it was. A rather freakish looking one with blue skin and lime green hair.

"The female tribute from District 6, Nicolai Lifee!"

A few people clap at the words, but their actions are half-hearted at best. I'm glad. No one should celebrate the death of a child. They cheered last year. Almost everyone whooped and hollered when they called Wren's name. My District was so sure they had a winner on their hands. There was no way Wren could lose. It simply wasn't possible.

They were wrong.

The man in the turquoise suit coughs awkwardly into his microphone as if to ramp up the audience. Practically every face glares up at him in defiance now. I am grateful to them, those angry eyes and hateful frowns. No one encourages the demise of a girl whose parents have already lost a child.

I guess the announcer takes the hint and gets his act back together. The other jeweled ball is picked up and shaken around for dramatic effect. I suppose he has to at least try to make this somewhat interesting for the replay tonight. An unintentional sigh slips past my lips and he seems annoyed by my reaction. The announcer-his name tag announces him as Gabris-slips his hand into the ball and draws out a milky white slip of paper.

"Dastrey Maricule!"

My eyes fall shut of their own accord. Nononononono… I know Dastrey Maricule. Everyone does. I mean, it's kind of hard not to. Dastrey is tall and rail thin with almond-shaped brown eyes and a mop of glossy black hair. He's exactly one grade ahead of me.

And Dastrey Maricule is the biggest threat I could've imagined.

He tentatively rises from his seat to approach the stage. Those long limbs make fluid, graceful motions that are hard not to be jealous of. Dastrey could be just a whisper in the wind for the amount of noise he's making. Deliberately, I look away from him. I will not asses this boy. I will not let him in my head.

"Ladies and gentleman of District 6th, I give you your tributes for the 67th annual HUNGER GAMES!"


	3. Howdy, Partner

New Chapter(: Sorry for taking so long! Oh and I'm desperate need of OC's! Please, I need 2 from each district except for 6 and then 2 from the Capitol! PLEASE ENTER!

-Katherine Elizabeth

I don't even listen to my Mom and Dad as they whisper goodbye to me. The words can't do our parting justice. Goodbyes aren't supposed to be eternal. Goodbyes are for a few hours, days, months, maybe even years. But good God, goodbyes shouldn't be forever. Somehow, one thing remains the same. My parents make the smart decision, holding me close while I allow my fears to control every thought I posses.

I am going to die. I am going to die a slow, painful, torturous death. I will die alone and afraid in a sadistic arena where the blood of other tributes is the only way to survive. Someone will kill me to last another day. I will become someone's sacrifice to the Capitol. I will shriek and cry and beg for this all to be a dream. I am going to die a horrible death.

And my parents are going to have to watch.

Just like that, I realize I have to win this. I have to win so my parents don't strangled by sadistic endings, drowned by my demise. My parents must be saved from total insanity. The throws of depression will render them useless. And there they will sit, frozen from the world and consumed by their children's death.

No.

No freaking way in _hell _will I let that happen to the people who brought me into this world. They will stay sane as long as I stay alive; As long as Dastrey stays alive... And that brings me to a whole new twist that the Game makers have tossed into our faces: Partners.

Yup.

You heard me correctly.

The Hunger Games now has _partners_.

_There's a deep, bone chilling silence in the crowd as Gabris the Weird Colored Announcer continues to wait for the cheering that will never come. He sighs, ruffles his neon pink hair, and raises his brows. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in the air right now. No shoes shuffling, babies wailing, even birds chirping. Just as I'm pretty sure Gabris will kill Dastrey and I to get some sort of response from the crowd, he gives a charming smile._

"_Ladies and gentleman, we have 3 special surprises for you this year!"_

_Surprise? Dear God. In the Hunger Games, surprises are never a good thing. A surprise here in District 6 means maybe you get to eat all three meals today, or perhaps you get half labor or something. Surprises are supposed to be a thing to be happy about. But a 'surprise' in the Games means a pack of rabid canaries picking your eyes apart, or a 9 foot tall wildebeest burning you with its Capitol-made tail that shoots fire. So color me skeptical that this 'surprise' Gabris is mentioning will end up benefiting me._

"_Firstly, our gracious Capitol has had 2 volunteers to participate in our very own Hunger Games!" His face seems to explode with pride as he thinks about those two kids from his own home. He doesn't understand how it feels to have your friends taken from you year after year after year…_

"_Our second surprise is…..PARTNERS!" Gabris practically bellows the word in our faces, smile growing at the looks people in the crowd are giving each other. Partners? No way. No freaking way. Dear Jesus, ! Dastrey…_

_Gabris starts running his mouth before the crowd can even get out a response "And our third surprise will be announced before our honorable tributes enter the arena! Thank you, District 6!"_

And now my new partnership with Dastrey will be the **only** thing keeping me alive. I will be okay as long as that boy with the almond eyes is.

"Time to go, Mr. and Mrs. Lifee" Carston, the nicest Peacekeeper District 6 has to offer, says gently. My parents take one last look at me, sniffling. There's something so dead in their eyes, something that I know is in mine too. Wren glimmers there, shining like the brilliant boy he was supposed to be. Wren, perfect little Wren….

"I don't give a damn what it takes, Nicolai. There's no way I can lose you too. Not you and Wren within 2 years" She sobs once but quickly gains control of herself "I. Love. You" My mother's curly black hair tickles my face as she whispers in my ear.

And then, like the wind through the trees, like the breath past my lips, both are gone.


	4. Train To Nowhere

Pretty please listen to "The Riddle" By Five For Fighting during this chapter. But hey, I don't make the rules. I just come to your house and creep if you don't follow them. Just figured I'd warn you(:

-Katherine Elizabeth

The air is still, unearthly still. District 6 is like this a lot. We're medics and surgeons and medical research, so most of our time isn't spent tending to windmills or flower gardens. A pair of gentle but obviously male footsteps mimics my own as I step through the photographers while they snap photos of my tear-stained face. I snap my neck straight and stare all of them down. This is their fault. They want the Hunger Games. They want our death. They want to see us suffer. No. I will not give them my weakness.

**Head high.**

**Chin strong.**

**Jaw set.**

"NICOLAI!" One of the freakish photographers screams at me. The sight of this Capitol creature makes my heart almost stop. Her skin is pure gray and the whites of her eyes are bright red. She looks like smoke stained with rivers of blood. Involuntarily, I shudder. She yells a question at me and I force my gaze elsewhere, anywhere but this reminder of what is to come.

"Get out of the way, please" Carston, my least hated peacekeeper, pushes the Capitol people away from Dastrey and me as we stumble towards the train. More questions are thrown onto our shoulders, pelted at us from aliens who only thirst for our blood, our souls, and our hope. This is the only thing I can withhold from them: My dignity.

"Just a few more steps" That low rumble of Dastrey's voice pushes me through the last two feet until I'm aboard the train. And then, as if we never even existed, Carson rushes back into the middle of the city, leaving Dastrey and I alone in a train destined for the Capitol. Empty. TerrifiedAll of these describe me now. No mom, no dad, no Wren. Just me…

There's absolutely no noise as I drop myself onto the plush carpeting, struggling to breath. This is a voyage of lasts for many tributes before me: the last time they see home, the last place where they are not wholly in the Games. Not yet, not quite yet. This train is Limbo; an in-between. We are not the Capitol's own, yet no longer a part of our district. This is the last place where I am allowed to be Nicolai Lifee. The second I step off of this machine, I am truly a tribute.

But then my eyes land on Dastrey, looking so strong while he peers out the window. The grip of guilt rips through my chest. How could I have forgotten courageous, kind Dastrey Maricule, The only boy at school who talks to me? The only one who doesn't treat me like I might break at any moment? He turns to face me quietly, peering at my worried expression.

"We're coming back, you know" A pair of chocolate eyes crinkle ever-so slightly around the edges as he grins cautiously at me. It kinda takes me a moment to remember that I no longer have to find a way to kill him so it's not weird that he's being friendly. At least, I don't think it is….

"What do you figure the last surprise is?" Dastrey asks quietly.

My stomach sinks to a whole new level. The only good thing about today is that I have him to keep me alive. But Capitol kids who will definitely have more sponsors than us (not to mention favoritism by the Game makers) and another "surprise" on the way? I'm as good as dead.

"I have no idea"

"Me neither"

Silence consumes us for a moment as I ponder the future. Dull stabs of pure _loneliness _puncture my chest and I allow myself a tear-filled gaze at the boy next to me. Gotta make sure he's still here, still breathing for me. I had so much going on in my life that I'd never really realized how graceful Dastrey looks. Long lines and smooth plains assemble on his face in a perfect, symmetrical pattern. His creamy pale skin is a screen for the reflection of the window, playing a sickening movie about a despair-stained nation.

"Hey, Dastrey?"

"Yeah?"

"Hug me, please."

And here, on a train bound for death and despair, sadism and horror, is one small moment of peace.

No fear, no pain, no darkness.

Here I am safe, warm, happy.

Here, on a train bound for death and despair, sadism and horror, I am alive.

And here, on that same train, Dastrey says he'll do anything in his power to keep me that way.

A little part of me realizes he always has.


	5. Rainbow

Enjoy(:

**-Katherine Elizabeth**

"Hold still!" Linklon sighs, dipping her strange paint brush back into the concoction lying in a sunset-pink bowl on the floor. A chunk of my hair is coated in the goop, and she moves right along to the rest of my hair. I hold my breath as the sour, eye-watering smell wanders up my nose and tries to assault my senses.

"Yes, Nicolai, only a few more strips" There's a pause as Illaon, the leader of the bunch, considers my face. A long, slender finger tilts my face every which way, my bones refracting the over-done yellow light. I squint through the brightness and he clucks his tongue. A bit of me wonders if that sound means that Illaon thinks I'm ugly. Most of me doesn't care.

"Honestly, it's like you kids have never seen bleach before!" My final prep-team member grins down at me with a sly smile. Her name's Jyna, and I have a feeling she hates the Capitol as much as I do. There's something about the way she exaggerates her accent and says all kinds of typical things that has me thinking Jyna probably isn't totally loyal to our gracious and all-mighty leader. She twirls a piece of wild berry colored hair around her finger and smirks "Or hair dye!"

My prep team giggles at their careless mistake. Of course I haven't seen hair dye or bleach before: I'm from the Districts. I have _just _enough of everything to survive, sometimes less but never more. I wear fairly decent clothes all patched up by my mother, and I have a single warm blanket that was a gift from my grandmother. She married an extremely successful ware-house owner and had more than enough fabric for anything she wanted to make. Her fingers were magical, even in the end of her life.

The three of them plop down their brushes and strips of foil that crinkle as they fall to the hard silver floor. Illaon has one eye closed, his head tipped at a painful angle. My fingers knot around one another as I watch their faces. Jyna's nodding and Linklon seems to be trying to get my features out of the picture and focus only on my hair.

Nifty.

"Not bad" Illaon finally mentions with a slight grin. There is something behind that grin off his. He was the lead stylist for Wren, too. I know it's so. When Wren walked onstage for his interview, looking all dapper and handsome in his fancy suit, the crowd threw roses at my little brother **and** Illaon. I bet the fact that I have Wren's eyes, hair, and a same long finger is probably killing Illaon inside. I tend to have that affect on people nowadays.

"Thanks" I murmur, begging my eyes to stay dry.

Jyna places a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder. "Close your eyes, little girl"

I do as I'm told, and I feel my styling chair being spun around. A moment of vertigo before Linklon guides me up onto my own two feet. The ground is cold on my bare skin. Strangely enough, all I can think about is how nice my old, worn out leather moccasins would feel right about now. The smooth silver beneath me draws out all the heat from my body, and soon enough I'm shivering. Goosebumps cover my arms in a pathetic ripple. I look like a ghostly gravel road.

"Now…OPEN THEM!"

My eyelashes flutter as I become adjusted to the light bouncing off every shiny surface. It's kinda ridiculous how sparkly they make everything in the Capitol. Why on earth would you ever want to be so reflective?

It's then that my gaze lands on the 7 streaks of color blazing through my now straightened hair:

A perfect rainbow

"_Hey Wren?" _

_The small girl curled up under the tree pipes in a high, shaky voice. Her auburn hair is caked in mud and leaves but still reflects the few beams of weak light that make it through the treetop, Which is really saying something since the entire area around them is practically solid foliage. You can't even see the sky from where she is._

"_Yep?" I watch, biting my lip, as my little brother turns to face the girl. She's 13, but he's got a solid 7 inches on her. She looks small and pathetic and Wren just looks….unbreakable. Solid. Everlasting. 2 pairs of blue eyes lock, and Wren gives a dazzling smile._

"_If you could be anything at all, in the entire world, what would you be?"_

"_Hmmm….Give me a second, Persephonee. I've gotta think about it" Wren draws his knees to his chest and squints. To a Capitol person, or even someone from a different district, it looks like Wren's seeing something far into the distance. But to me, someone who's known him for years, I know he's seeing into the depths of own mind._

"_A rainbow" He answers finally._

"_Why?" Persephonee sits up and brushes a few orange dried-out leaves out of her brown track jacket nervously. Wren smiles like she was his most prized possession and lowers himself onto the crunchy forest floor._

"_Can you see the sky right now, Sephonee?"_

"…_No"_

"_How long has it been since you've seen a cloud?"_

"_A couple of weeks?"_

"_3 weeks, 2 days, 17 hours, and 4 minutes." Wren chuckles softly, staring at his lithe fingers_

"_You're a freak"_

"_Basically" Wren lets his eyes wander to the treetops, trying to find a piece of the sky "But I want to be a rainbow so I can shine down on my mother" He smiles wistfully "She'll know I'm safe with you when she looks at all my colors"_

"_Wren?"_

"_I miss my mom, too"_

_Suddenly, a net drops down on to Persephonee, tangling her limbs as she struggles to get out. Persephonee is doomed. No way in hell that she'll be okay._

"_WREN!" Persephonee lets out a desperate scream of terror. Wren's racing towards her now, his feet flying across the ground and kicking up more leaves than a tornado. His eyes are determined and yet as warm as the hot spring in our back yard._

_I can hear a knife ripping through the air._

"So, what do you think?" Jyna smiles comfortingly at me, her piercing golden eyes holding my gaze

"I…I….I I…."

"The crowd will remember, Nicolai" Linklon brushes away a piece of plain old brown hair and looks down at me sadly "We did this on purpose"

"He was good, you know." I mumble. It's pathetic, really. Using a perfectly good moment in which Wren was truly himself to help me along in the Games. Wren Lifee was here, here and gone. But he was my baby brother. I can't use him for my own advancement. I can't use a dead boy to endear me to a nation of sadists and horrors. I simply ca-

And there's a whisper in my ear, a soft voice that instantly draws Goosebumps

"It's okay, Nicolai"

Wren.

I draw my chin up, harden my eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears, and breathe

"Let's do this"

The Team smiles broadly, brightly, brilliantly. Suddenly, they all converge on me in a whirl of makeup, brushes, and various outfits. It takes them hours to make me "Capitol Pretty" as they call it, adding yet another notch on my list of Reasons to Never Be a Capitol Citizen. But when they step away from me, after all my complaints and protests, I have to admit:

I look freaking _HOT. _

My Team's put me in a glossy silver lab coat that seems to make my own skin glitter. There are little bits of plastic that I suppose are made to look like metal scalpel blades all over the entire shimmering dream. The shoulders have shards of metal that are fashioned as if they are pieces of a surgical table. A fitted pencil skirt and blouse can be seen, but it's the reflective lab coat that really makes me look beautiful Long sheets of straightened brown shot with color cascade down my back, pulled away from my face so everyone can see my sharp features, especially my eyes. They are highlighted with silver powders and glitters, outlined with a rim that might be ice.

It's like every little bit of me is a weapon. I look like a true tribute: clever and dangerous and deadly and beautiful.

"Wow" I breathe

The next hour is a blur. I'm hoisted onto a chariot, paraded around in front of people going wild for my coat, and read pointless documents about my future. I don't have time to even look at Dastrey until we pull back into the Training Center. It's dark, so dark, and today has been awful… I manage to look up at the tall boy when we enter the elevator: His glossy black locks have been rubbed with a color spectrum as well. I simply cannot understand…

"Wren" Dastrey says simply.

I try not to cry as I think of how the games have corrupted even the Rainbow.


End file.
